PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In a world of abandoned dreams and countless wishes,

I’m lost in between an embrace

and meaningless kisses

The thesis of my heart has been paraphrased in pain

In vain are spoken attractions

that seems to keep mispronouncing my name

And what am I to those... that exposes their emotions,

but turn their backs on me when the wind blows colder...

And it’s their noses they turn up,

after turning my affection down

Whenever I think I’m stepping in the name of “Love”,

“She” changes her direction, and just turn around

Tell me, what’s the point of changing,

when the world sees you the same?

And tell me, why should I call on Love,

when she doesn’t even know my name?

I’ve cried all of my tears,

and all of my pride I’ve swallowed,

If I was to borrow God’s heart

in loneliness I’d probably still wallow

Tightly sealed palms, embalmed in fantasy chases...

Slow walks in the park, embarking on a journey that doesn’t exist,

but your heart’s racing...

And starring eyes are just hidden lies,

peaking from the windows of your soul

And all that you remember about love only expose what you don’t know

Something so beautiful and pure;

God’s gift to man...

“Bones of my bones...”

“Flesh of my flesh...”

So their ugliness I can’t understand

What is love...

If your heart is in a noose hanging from your throat...

And your soul is shattered - scattered into a thousand emotions,

composing disregarded love notes???

But it’s something we all desire

Selling our souls to obtain

Not realizing we’re only suffering from this agonizing pain

Win, lose, or draw, it should be wisdom we gain,

instead we all fall for the same deceit -

searching for sunshine where it rains

And I’m drenched with lies, and the games of evil hearts

It seems love is a musical melody,

and I’m still waiting for the verse to start

So, for me there is no chorus,

and the rain still pours...

So I let them disguise my cries

Therefore, my tears , I can shed more

What is love,

if the corridors to its rooms are closed

and you’re walking with blinders on...

And she pretends not to be home...

Is love really that cold?

See I’ve possessed all the symptoms -

the itchy throat, and runny nose,

but just because you can’t stop sneezing

doesn’t meant that it’s a cold

So all of the interest that they’ve showed,

and the feelings they’ve confessed...

Somebody please tell me,

what is Love...

If after 25 years you haven’t received it yet.



Tha Prodigal One...